


The New Future

by roryfreisthler



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Aro-ace Luna Lovegood, Aromantic Luna Lovegood, Asexual Luna Lovegood, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Felix Felicis, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Other, Queerplatonic Luna Lovegood/Harry Potter, Queerplatonic Relationships, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding Traditions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roryfreisthler/pseuds/roryfreisthler
Summary: There's no reason for Harry's soulmate to be someone who proudly bears the Slytherin name. Is there?





	1. Unconventional

On Harry’s seventeenth birthday, the mark doesn’t appear like it’s supposed to.

“It probably just means that your person isn’t born yet,” Ron says, attempting to be delicate. “Uh, guess my gift isn’t very useful. I kind of figured it would be Ginny…” He gives Harry the  _ Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches  _ book anyway. 

Harry bites his lip, looking at the book in his lap, that seems frivolous now. Is it possible he just doesn’t have a soulmate? 

“Anyway, want to go downstairs?” Ron asks. Harry can tell that even after nearly a year, he doesn’t know what do about the fact that he and Hermione are soulmates. It’s been a weird dance, with the two of them trying to figure out how they’re going to live the rest of their lives together despite the war, because you just  _ don’t  _ walk out on your soulmate, even if you don’t understand it. 

They walk downstairs, and Harry is given the rest of his presents. Fred breaks the silence. “So, who’s your soulmate, Potter?”

His soulmate, a Slytherin named Athanasia, looks at him with a  _ really?  _ expression. If someone isn’t telling people their soulmate, there’s usually a reason.

Harry tenses his right fist, which is now doubly shameful - the  _ I must not tell lies  _ scar, and the absence of his soulmate’s name on his palm. “I don’t think I have one.”

Fleur’s expression softens, and she looks at Bill, her soulmate. “Well, maybe there’s just an age difference.”

“An age difference where they’re not born when I’m already 17 years old?” Harry scoffs. “Yeah, that’s likely.”

The lack of his soulmate’s handwriting on his palm doesn’t help him feel like he has any roles in the world beyond being the Boy Who Lived. 

***

The years after the war mostly just involve politics. It turns out that he’s somehow the head of twenty different magical houses, thanks to some fancy oath that all the Death Eaters swore, that transferred the headship of their house to Voldemort - and with his defeat, the logical person to carry on his titles is the Boy Who Lived. Harry will never forget the magic he felt when Voldemort died, decades of House magic from various wizarding families settling around him, realizing he is their home now. The natural result of his various headships is impressive political power, and most of the wizarding world regarding him as their Lord. It’s interesting, to say the least.

Harry moves in with Luna, who also doesn’t have a mark. It’s not the most conventional relationship, because Luna has no interest in romance or sex whatsoever, but she doesn’t judge him, and he doesn’t judge her. It’s fine. It’s good. And maybe, someday, Harry hopes, everyone will forget that they’re not soulmates. Ginny turns out to be soulmates with Pansy Parkinson, of all people. Their courtship is volatile and involves lots of yelling, but eventually things settle down and it’s clear that magic knew for a long while that they were meant to be together.

***

When it first appears, a few years after the end of the war, Luna is the first to notice. “I wonder who Delphini Slytherin is,” she remarks in the most casual tone possible. 

“Who?” Harry asks, putting down the dish he’s washing. 

“The name on your hand. Although it’s clear she’s very young,” Luna tells him.

He turns his palm to face him, and indeed, there, written in a childlike scrawl, is the name  _ Delphini Slytherin.  _

Harry’s heart skips a beat, and his scar prickles. Well, at least he thinks it does. The only thing he can think is  _ The heir of Slytherin.  _

“They’re supposed to be dead,” he mutters. “And why would anyone want to take that name as a surname?”

“Well, if I had to guess, I’d say she’s being raised by someone who believes in pureblood ideals,” Luna says. 

“Are you… okay?” Harry asks, instinctively moving towards Luna. 

Luna forces a smile. “It’s quite alright. You’re clearly capable of loving someone, and I wouldn’t want to take that away from you just because I’m not.”

“Luna, you are…” Harry sighs.

“Yes, just not in a conventional way,” She shrugs. “Well, I’d say we still have a while, her handwriting looks like she just learned how to write her full name. And after that, we’ll still be friends, won’t we?”

“Of course,” Harry says, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Besides, I don’t think I want to marry someone who proudly embraces that last name, anyway.”


	2. First Meeting

The next few months are dedicated to Harry intermittently researching the genealogy of the Slytherin family line and trying to figure out who Delphini Slytherin could be the child of - and hoping desperately that she is the daughter of anyone  _ besides  _ the late Dark Lord. Luna doesn’t seem particularly perturbed by the possibility, noting that her father tried to turn Harry and his friends into the Death Eaters but  _ she’s  _ perfectly loyal to the good part of wizarding society. Sometimes, Harry wishes he could be more open-minded like her.

Eventually, he drops the hobby, and hopes that Delphini is the descendant of someone like Isolt Sayre, the founder of Ilvermony. And the years go by, and Delphini’s writing stops looking like a childlike scrawl and starts looking more like the writing of a formidable Dark witch.

***

The summer of 2015 starts off with Harry sipping his pumpkin juice, and then turning to Luna with an irritated expression on his face. “Did you spike my juice?”

“Well, your mark is darker this morning. That means she’s 17,” Luna casually sips her own juice. “Today’s bound to be interesting. Don’t you think you could use some good luck?”

Harry throws down the paper and storms up to his room, irritated with Luna. Just because he  _ has  _ a soulmate doesn’t mean he should be forced to interact with her on the day she discovers who he is. 

But the day goes on, and he starts to feel restless. Figuring it’s due to being cooped up inside without any fresh air, he decides to go for a walk, and figures he’ll Apparate to Hogsmeade, since that’s a decent way to spend a lucky day. 

Of course, Felix has other plans for him, and he ends up inside the gates of Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa Malfoy drops her sewing and stares at him. “What are you doing here… My Lord?” Like other members of the families that swore loyalty to the Dark Lord, she’s compelled by Pureblood tradition to refer to him as such. And even now that those traditions have fallen out of use, members of the House of Black cling to them.

“I need information from you,” Harry stammers out, not entirely sure  _ what  _ he needs.

“His grave,” Narcissa nods, and although she seems hesitant, writes an address on a piece of paper and hands it to Harry. “Be safe, I suppose, my Lord,”

Her face is conflicted, and Harry can’t help but think he’ll encounter something very dangerous at Voldemort’s grave - for he knows that’s who “he” is instinctively. Is his soulmate attempting to raise the dead? He should probably recruit some Aurors to come with him, or at least a few former members of Dumbledore’s Army, but somehow he feels like this is something he needs to do on his own.

***

He soon Aparates to the address, and finds himself in a graveyard full of headstones with various names on them that he knows belongs to Dark wizards. Standing in the graveyard is a silver-haired girl - no, woman, because she’s 17 now - staring at the headstone that he knows must belong to the former Dark Lord.

He walks up behind her and waits for her to notice him. She’s lost in something, drawing runes in blood on the headstone.

“So is this part of your regular activities, or is it because you’re of age now?” Harry asks.

The witch drops the vial of blood, and it spills on the ground. Harry instinctively steps away, not wanting to be corrupted by it. 

“It is because I am of age now, my Lord,” she answers, straightening up and making eye contact with him. Despite himself, he’s impressed. Not many people dare to do that nowadays - especially not many people who are from a traditionally dark family.

“My Lord?” he asks, vaguely amused. “Didn’t think you would call me that, of all people.”

“Well, you are the head of the Slytherin family,” she answers. 

“I suppose that tells me that you are indeed my  _ soulmate.”  _ He says the word with equal disdain to how she said “my Lord”. “But who are you, Delphini Slytherin?”

Harry realizes too late that her startle reflex must have been an act as she has Harry stunned and bound to the headstone with ropes of fire, and then grabs his wand. Everything is burning, and even his skin that is pressed up against the headstone hurts, as his entire self rejects anything connected with Voldemort.

“I am the new past. I am the new future. I am the answer this world has looking for. The Augrey, and the daughter of the Dark Lord with his most loyal servant. Does that answer your question, Chosen One?” she asks, as she twirls his wand in her hand. She then attempts to break it, but it doesn’t work.

“Don’t you know that soulmates can’t break each other’s wands? Or kill each other?” Harry asks, taunting.

“I…” 

And like that, Harry has burst out of the fire ropes, using wandless magic himself, and grabbed his wand back from Delphini, along with her wand. “Come on,  _ dear.  _ Let’s go home.”


End file.
